


Time After the End

by tigereyes45



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: AU, Crowley Was Raphael Before He Fell (Good Omens), Friends to Lovers, Future Fic, Multi, Post-Canon, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-29
Updated: 2019-06-29
Packaged: 2020-05-29 15:37:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19403299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tigereyes45/pseuds/tigereyes45
Summary: After the switch, Aziraphale and Crowley sit down back at his apartment to talk. After just one night Aziraphale has seemingly made himself at home. Which is why he is so surprised at the bareness of the apartment still. Yes, Crowley often moved around, but he was also known for keeping mementos. So why wasn’t there more?





	Time After the End

Today had been a rather eventful day. First the whole body swap, then the trials, and of course their lovely dinner at the Ritz. So a peaceful ending would have been wonderful for such an eventful day. When they left the Ritz behind Aziraphale had started the walk back to his bookshop. A tight grip on his arm caused him to pause.

With a soft smile Aziraphale questions the demon. “Crowley what are you doing?”

“Where are you going?” He asks pulling his mouth into a tight line. Honestly, it was impossible for Aziraphale to tell what the demon was thinking sometimes.

“Back to my shop.” He answers casually. Aziraphale rests a hand over Crowley’s. The grip only tightens from the touch. Or perhaps it was tightened due to his answer.

“Come back with me. It will be safer if we stick together.”

Aziraphale lets all his confusion show. He looks up and then down. It almost appeared as if he was expecting angels to descend and demons to rise right there. It would be a rather odd spot for it. A sight the humans would never forget at least. The angel wants to question him. His motives, his thoughts, why he should come. Yet he doesn’t. He squeezes Crowley’s hand over his arm.

Slowly he lets go of Aziraphale’s arm. A desperate look on Crowley’s face for once. It was only a flash of concern. A flash that was gone before Aziraphale could even attempt to memorize it. Crowley was always quick. On the road, in life, moving about, and especially with masking his emotions. Aziraphale wishes he had such a trick. Perhaps then he could have stood up to Gabriel more. Perhaps the world wouldn’t have gotten so close to ending.

“Alright,” he agrees silently. Before either could take a single step Crowley snaps his fingers. They were in his Bentley the next moment. Aziraphale wiggles himself into a comfortable position. For once Crowley’s speed and reckless driving did not bother the angel. Though he imagines that is due to all of the stress of the day. Even a car ride to hell would seem peaceful compared to their day. He rests one hand out, just close enough to the middle that occasionally it would graze against Crowley. It was pleasant knowing he wasn’t alone. That this was real and neither of them had died. All was well.

Once they arrive at the flat Crowley slams his door shut. Aziraphale jumps at the sound and watches his friend carefully. Had he done something to upset the demon? As he follows him inside they walk in silence. Aziraphale searches for any sign that may give tale to his friend’s state of mind. When they walk in, Crowley’s shoulders slouch just slightly. Enough for him to realize that he was at least a little more relaxed than before. Perhaps slamming the door had been an accident. Or perhaps Aziraphale was reading far too into things. It wouldn’t be the first time.

He misunderstood Crowley a lot. As the angel looks around the apartment he comes to one realization after another. Despite them being stuck on Earth for six thousand years together, what did Aziraphale really know about Crowley? He had no idea who Crowley was beside the snarky comments and confident demeanor. Even after being in his body, what did he truly know about his friend?

“Make yourself at home!” Crowley shouts as he looks over his plants. Aziraphale watches him gently spray them with water. He expects every leaf on every plant as he goes through the room. He had no idea that Crowley was so dedicated to his hobby. Especially a hobby that was to keep other beings alive. Even if they couldn’t move. It was somewhat endearing to see Crowley like this.

When the demon glances up Aziraphale quickly looks away. What good would it do to be caught staring after all? None at all. So his eyes jump to the Eagle Lectern hidden behind a little bit of wall that juts in. Hidden from the televisions’ view. He had noticed it before. Except, this time he had time to just focus on it. He didn’t have to worry about pulling off Crowley. He could just examine the nicely designed piece.

Aziraphale walks closer to get a better look at the lectern. As he rounds it he could feel Crowley’s eyes following him. The heat from them was duly noted. They did not stop him. As the angel circles the eagle for the second time he realizes that he has seen it before. Yes. He had definitely seen this exact lectern before. Now he just had to remember where.

A whistle fills the apartment. It ends abruptly with a bang. World War II. This was the eagle lectern that had been in the church! The same one where he had fallen into a trap. When Crowley came just in time to save him. He knew Crowley had saved his books, but he had no idea that he had saved the lectern as well.

Carefully, afraid of it’s frailty from age, Aziraphale runs his fingers over the side. The stone was cold to his touch. It didn’t surprise him, it just was. He rests his hand in the middle of the wings. The place where their lord’s book should rest. The same book many humans had toiled over restlessly to put together. Why would Crowley have this?

“Souvenir,” Crowley answers the unspoken question.

Aziraphale jumps a little as he looks up. Crowly was now leaning against the wall. Blocking the only way out and into the small area. It was clear that only one person was supposed to be in it at a time, but Crowley didn’t seem to mind. Of course, he wouldn’t though. This was his flat after all. Just as this was his, ‘souvenir’.

“You don’t have much,” the angel notes.

“Don’t need much.” Crowley steps in further. He rests his elbows on either wing of the eagle.

“You collect souvenirs. How did I never know that about you, Crowley?”

The demon shakes his head slowly as if he was looking for an answer. The walls were barren as were his reasons. So Crowley decides to avoid answering the question altogether. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me, angel.”

“Yes! Well,” Aziraphale looks back down at his hand. “Well, I’ve known you for six thousand years. I should know if you collected souvenirs.” Aziraphale pushes his way around the lectern. He is careful not to bump into Crowley on his way out. Thankfully there was just enough room for him to pass through without touching the demon.

“And why don’t you have more? Your flat is so, so barren. If you collect souvenirs, then why is it so, so empty?” Aziraphale asks looking back. His eyes meet Crowley’s for the third time that night. Only this time Aziraphale was watching them closely. Searching for a sign. Any sign within them that could answer him. “Shouldn’t there be more after six thousand years of souvenirs?”

Crowley looks up at the roof. As if the flat ceiling was hiding all the answers. Aziraphale wonders if it was too avoid looking him in the eyes. If that made it easier for the demon to avoid answering. Or worse, lie. “Only collect the ones of importance.”

Aziraphale looks about once more. Searching futilely for anything more. He spies a statue of two angels. They were embraced in each other's arms. The one with the darker wings standing over the other. He knows that piece. It was meant to show evil triumphing over good. He glances nervously back at Crowley. Why did he have it? They had gone to such lengths to save the world. Was there still some part of him that wanted to win? That longed to see the demons won and back in heaven.

“What of this? I imagine it's a souvenir. What importance does it carry?”

Crowley doesn’t even bother to glance at the statue. He doesn’t need to. There were so few things as Aziraphale kept pointing out. Crowley ponders how to answer the question. He could lie, say it was a gift. Or a half-truth could probably hold the angel over. Crowley sighs as he decides. If he wanted the angel to stay he would have to be honest. At least a little. He was still a demon even if he didn’t work with the others anymore. Who could ever expect him to tell the whole truth?

“A reminder.” Crowley starts. He watches Aziraphale flinch. A little pang of smugness rises up. He pushes it back down quickly. His goal wasn’t to make Aziraphale feel bad. He just wanted his friend to stay. They were all the other had now anyways. “From when I fell.” Crowley continues.

He pushes himself out of the hidden room. He makes sure to walk with emphasis on every step. There were little things he could do to pull Aziraphale’s attention. If he wanted to have this talk then he would use all of them. Including switching his walk up just the slightest bit.

“Before I fell I held power in heaven. Other angels would listen to me. I suppose that’s why Lucifer approached me.” Crowley explains. “Like humans often are I was curious. Curiosity just so happened to get the better of me. As it so often does with them.” Crowley miracles a bottle into his hand. He pulls the top off with ease. Flicking it from his fingers Crowley watches it fly. It lands squarely on the bottom of Aziraphale's chin. Not where he had been aiming, but it was funny all the same. He would take what humor he could right now.

Crowley takes a large swig of his wine before walking further away. He spins around so he was now walking backward. His eyes still on Aziraphale. He throws his hands up. “I suppose that’s how God Almighty made me. Curious, just like the humans he just tried to destroy. So you tell me, angel, why would I keep such a statue.” Crowley shrugs and throws his arms up.

Now that Aziraphale was looking sufficiently pouty Crowley knows there will be no more questions tonight. He might actually get to sleep. “Stay or go angel. I’m tired so I am going to bed. The choice is yours.”

Aziraphale watches Crowley spin on his heel. It was comical how much emphasis he was putting on every movement of his limbs. Or, it would have been if Aziraphale did not feel as if he had over stepped a line. He had made a point to never ask Crowley about the fall. If it was for Crowley’s good or his own Aziraphale wasn’t sure. It had just been a sensitive topic he would only touch on to make a reprimand statement or derivative comment. Always to remind Crowley of the difference between them.

He looks back at the statue. The fallen angel was holding the other in a tight embrace. They were supposed to be wrestling, but Aziraphale cannot help but wonder. They looked to holding each other. Not grappling for power. If the positions were reversed it would be a loyal piece. Another human work of art depicting the angels’ greatness. Yet it isn’t reversed. Evil was triumphing good. All Aziraphale could see was two angels holding each other. When the dark-winged angel eyes flash Aziraphale doesn’t jump. He doesn’t step away or wonders what trick Crowley was trying to play.

No. None of that happens at all. What does occur is Aziraphale standing in the same spot all night. His eyes focus on the statute. His thoughts reflecting on thousands of years of interactions. Trying to remember one moment where he had been empathetic to Crowley over the fall. Over the risk, Crowley had taken to help him so often. All up till almost the end of the world of yesterday.

When Crowley wakes up in the morning he stumbles out of bed. Quickly he miracles himself to look respectful. He takes note that there was no other outline of a body in the bed. So either Aziraphale never came to bed, or he left altogether. Crowley hopes it the former, even though the latter was more likely. His surprise was tinged with delight as he steps out of his room.

Aziraphale was still there. In the same place where he had left him last night. His eyes focused forwards on the item of their little conversation. It wasn’t what Aziraphale had planned to do. It wasn’t how Crowley had wanted him to stay. After six thousand years Crowley knew what to expect from his angel. Perhaps even more so then Aziraphale did.


End file.
